


The Prince Returns (sort of)

by TuckerPuppy (HarleyD)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Complete, If You Think This Has A Happy Ending You Haven't Been Paying Attention, Im obsessed now, M/M, Maybe for Reek, Minor Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy, More Theon!, No Happy Endings for Theon, No way Yara doesn't think Theon is a Bolton spy, Past Torture, Poor Theon, Ramsay is his own warning, Sibling Bonding, but I felt so bad, was supposed to be a oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6909487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarleyD/pseuds/TuckerPuppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picks up where Theon was left in episode 6.4 where Theon returns to Pyke and wants to help Yara rule.  It doesn't go as planned.  It never does for Theon.  (though to be fair, it kind of goes as expected).  </p><p>NO happy ending.  Poor thing.   </p><p>No idea what is actually going to happen, but I have trouble believing that Yara could ever be convinced that Theon wasn't there as a spy for Ramsay.  Also, this was completely a oneshot but after last episode with Euron... and well... I feel terrible and I couldn't leave it like I did.  Still probably won't be a happy ending for Theon though, still probably will be for Reek.  :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            “You should rule the iron islands.  Let me help you.”

            Yara let go of his clothes and stepped back, and she tried to keep the eye contact but his eyes immediately looked back to the ground.

            “How do you think you could help me?”

            No words came to mind, it was hard to even keep his thoughts straight and he felt her move closer and he cringed back.  “Theon-”

            He tried to squelch the panicked whimper that escaped his lips but he didn’t manage too and he stumbled back a few steps, his hands coming up in front of his face.  “That’s not... I’m not...”  He managed to not say the word, not even anything it rhymed with, but the damage had been done.

            “And you think you could help me?  You’d be better off put down like a sick dog.”  Yara moved closer to him and he backed up a step before her remembered the lesson that had taught him that you didn’t do that, you didn’t back away from your master, and the then and now jumbled together and all he could do was stand there helplessly.  “Or maybe we could trade you back to your ... master.  Would he pay well for you?”

            She had told him to stop crying but harsh sobs bust out of his throat at her words.  He had thought them, had worried about that, but on the long ship ride had convinced himself that she wouldn’t do it.  He reached for her, grabbing on to her shirt, blubbering out words.  “Please, please don’t do that.  My Mas... Ramsay..”  He choked on the word a little, it was forbidden for him to say unless asked, but he was trying to win her to his side.  “You have no idea what he will do.”

            Yara pulled away from him, her face disgusted and he would like to think it was just because he was dirty but he knew that wasn’t it.   “Oh, I have some idea.  Everyone does.  Father wasn’t exactly... quiet about what _Lord Snow_ sent.”

            Whether it was the information that everyone must know, or the choice of words Theon lost it again, a wail making its way out of his throat and past his lips until he was crying like a woman, hands over his face.  You never called him Snow, just hearing someone else call him it was enough to lose him a finger.

            He wasn’t sure what Yara was doing, he was aware of her talking to him but he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that when she touched him he jerked away and shoved his hands tight against his chest.  “Please don’t hurt me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can do better.”

            “Enough!”  The command was followed by a sharp backhand that sent his wailing into small whimpers, trying to stop them.  “If father could see you now...”  Yara trailed off and then crossed her arms, “Though I doubt he could have thought any less of you than he already did.”  They stood there quiet for a few minutes, except for Theon’s whimpers, until she waved a hand at him.

            “Show me.”

            “Sh—show you?”

            “You say he broke you.  Take off your clothes.  Show me what it took to break a Greyjoy, as little of one as you may have been.”

            “I... I can’t..”  He clutched at his clothes, stomach rolling at the thought of her seeing what had been done to him.  Knowing was one thing... seeing... He was back to begging, “Please m’lady, please don’t-”

            “M’lady?  Not Yara, not sister?  Are you just another peasant now Theon?”  She was in his space, voice a growl, and he could taste the blood on his lips from the backhand.

            “Reek.  My name is Reek.”  He tried to force the words down, the panic in his voice familiar to him, almost comforting, and he was glad he wasn’t looking at her to see her response.  His shoulders slumped because he’d lost the fight and when the words came up without his consent he muttered out, “rhymes with weak...” He didn’t try to stop it.

            “So I was right then.  Theon Greyjoy is dead.”  The words were flat, emotionless.  “Then take off your clothes _Reek_ , and let me see how he broke you.”  The hatred in the way she said his name slid right to his core, making him feel ashamed in a way he hadn’t for a long time, and he found himself babbling apologies.

            It didn’t stop him from following the order though, he reached down for the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head.  He glanced up at her for a second, saw the horror on her face, and quickly looked away.  He knew he wasn’t very pretty to look at anymore, he had told her she didn’t want to see.

            His hands touched the laces on the pants he wore and they shook so badly he couldn’t get a grip on the laces.  He let go, reaching up to touch the collar that was still around his neck, he hadn’t been able to take it off.  The panic... the panic had been overwhelming.  He reached for his pants again and went about undoing the laces, unable to swallow down the whimpers.

            He pushed them down, though without being tied they nearly fell down themselves.   They got stuck on the shoes he wore, he had almost forgotten what it was like to wear shoes, and he struggled to toe them off before he could get his pants the rest of the way off.

            When he straightened he held his hands in front of his shame, and even though he managed to stay almost quiet he couldn’t stop the tears sliding down his face.  “Drop your hands.”

            That was expected, Ramsay had always been unhappy when he tried to cover up the scars too.  He dropped his arms to his sides and looked away at the floor.  She moved close to him and he hunched his shoulders, trying to look small.  She moved around him in a circle until she came to stop just in front of him.

            Her hand came into his line of sight like she was going to touch him, like she was going to touch him _there_ and keened like a wounded animal, too afraid to pull away.  She didn’t touch him there though.  Her hand touched his right hip, the middle of his chest, his right shoulder.  He knew what she was doing and he answered the question. 

            “His mark.  The... the Bolton banner.”  The sigil was carved into him in more places than that, but they were the most visible from the front.

            “You’re covered in his mark.  Branded. You’re nothing but a Bolton slave.”  She stepped back and her voice had no give to it.  “Did he fuck you like you were his tavern whore too?”  
            His head ducked lower, the words wouldn’t form but he knew that his response was all that she had to see.  She made a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a growl, and it didn’t sound happy.  “What do you expect me to do Theon?  You betrayed us.  You’ve been our enemy’s voluntary play thing for years.  We can’t trust you.”

            “Not... Not by choice...”

            “You remember when we tried to rescue you, don’t you?  The way you fought us, the way you refused to go.  I saw your face when he came in, like your God had arrived himself to save you.  You aren’t ours, not anymore.”

            There was a bang on the door that startled him, and he cringed away.  The words hurt, though so much hurt all the time it was like a faint buzzing underneath everything else.  He knew that he betrayed them, he knew he had.  A small rebellious part of his brain wondered if he hadn’t already paid for it, paid for all his sins, but he knew better than say that.

            Yara was at the door, and belatedly he realized that someone else was following her in.  His hands flew to cover himself again, ashamed to be standing there naked in front of one of her men.  Ashamed for anyone to see what Ramsay had done to him.

            It was a big burly man that followed at his sister’s heels and when he laid eyes on Theon he sneered.  “Not much of a prince anymore, are you?”

            The blood rushed to his face, and he desperately wished he was clothed.  He tried to raise his eyes to Yara, “M’lady, can I get dressed?”

            Yara was talking to the man in a hushed tone, and she ignored his question.  He wasn’t sure but he thought it was one of the men that had been with his sister when she tried to save him.  The man handed her something and the seal caught Theon’s eyes, and he felt his stomach drop.  It matched the scars on him, and he was sure he was going to be sick.

            She opened the letter and her eyes scanned down it, glancing up at Theon once before looking down at it again.  Her face set after the second time she read it and she shoved it at the man who immediately started to read it while she moved to Theon.

            He dropped his hands when she got close, even though he was scattered he did remember that she had ordered him to keep his hands down.  She glanced down, and her eyes lingered there for a moment before she looked back up at him.  “Do you really want to help me Theon?”

            He was biting his lip hard enough to bleed to keep himself from correcting her on his name and she waited while he got himself under control.  When he was certain she wanted an answer he spoke, “Yes m’lady.”  Over her shoulder the man had moved closer and Theon didn’t dare look at him. 

            “And you mean that Theon?  You want to serve the iron islands in any way that you can, yes?”

            His heart was racing, he had spent enough time with Ramsay to know when someone was being led somewhere.  He didn’t know what the end game was, it wouldn’t matter anyways.  He was too broken to try to control the game, he could only pray to the drowned god that it wouldn’t end badly for him.  “Yes, M’lady.”  His voice stuttered, “I want to help.”

            “Is that how you pledge your loyalty to the future Queen of the Iron Islands?  You don’t even take a knee?”

            Theon carefully turned his eyes up to the man, Cayle he remembered, only to catch the man looking at the mess between his legs.  His face burned hot and he turned back to Yara, trying to get his tongue around the words, “I’m sorry.”

            He struggled to drop down to one knee, his body was too damaged to do it gracefully and he had to put one hand on the ground to keep himself from falling over.  Cayle’s eyes were still on him, mocking, so after he settled he turned his body to shield between his legs.  It wasn’t covering up, it wasn’t really disobeying what she had said, though his body tensed because he knew that Ramsay would know.  Ramsay wouldn’t have let that small disobedience slide by.  He always knew when his Reek was hiding something, when he-

            A slap across the face brought his head up quickly, even as he cringed back.  He hadn’t been paying attention and from the aggravated look on Yara’s face she had been trying to get his attention.  He didn’t know what was being asked of him but he bowed his head, “Anything I can do to help you, I... I pledge my allegiance.”

            “I told you Yara, you know that it is the only usefulness he’ll have.  What is more important?”

            She eyed him for a moment before she tilted her head towards his clothes, “Get dressed and get back to your feet.”

“Thank you m’lady.”  The real gratitude fell from his mouth, overwhelmed with the need to show her how much he appreciated it, even while he pushed it back because he knew that she wouldn’t want him to.  That it would just make her angry.  His hands were shaky as he pulled the clothes on, the annoyed sigh behind him telling him he was taking too long.  It was difficult with his missing fingers, but finally he was dressed and stood in front of her, keeping his eyes on the floor while he waited.

Yara stepped towards him and reached out to take his chin and tilt his head up.  There was no warmth in her eyes, nothing familiar like his sister’s face should have when she looked at him and he had a feeling the game was over and he had lost.  Again.

            “I have a very useful task for you Theon, a way that you will be able to help us.  Aren’t you proud to do so?”

            The words dripped with disgust and Cayle moved up behind him.  Maybe it was just a test, if he just was good, if he just did what he told maybe it would still be okay, “Yes, of course.  Please, let me help you.”

            “Good.”  She let go of his chin and looked over him to Cayle, “Put him in his room and lock the door.  Make sure the prisoner is secure.”

            Theon jerked his head up, fear winding around his heart as he met her eyes, “Yara, please-”

            Cayle grabbed his arms and was already dragging him away, not that he resisted, but he heard her parting words.  “I need to write a letter to the Boltons, let them know we have a hostage they will be wanting back.”

            He screamed in agony, he hadn’t really thought she would do it.  As he was dragged down the hallway the man leaned in close, his voice cold, “Don’t worry, soon you will be home with your Master Ramsay.  I’m sure he’s missed you.”  A dark laugh filled the halls, “What part do you think he’ll take from you next?”

            He had gone numb and when he was shoved into his room he didn’t bother to cushion his fall or catch himself, hitting the floor with a dull thud.  The door shut behind him, lock sliding into place and all that was left was to curl in a ball, cry, and wait to return home to his master.


	2. Chapter 2

            Yara took a moment before she headed down the hallway, trying to calm herself before she reached Theon’s door.  If she went in there angry, yelling, she wouldn’t get anywhere and she knew that now.  And if she could stop being angry at her brother for more than a few minutes at a time maybe she would be making some progress with him.  As it was, she seemed to upset him more than anyone else when she went to his room.  The disgust she had felt when he first arrived... it had faded to something else.  Something closer to pity.  Regret.

            The door was opening when she got there and she tensed for a moment, but it was only a servant coming through, holding a tray of food that looked mostly untouched.  The servant shut the door and turned, stopping suddenly when she saw Yara standing there.  “Oh, M’lady, I didn’t see you, my apologies.”  There was a pause and then almost sheepishly the servant turned back to the door, pushing the sliding bar across the door to lock it.

            Yara knew that no one locked the door anymore.  When she had first imprisoned her brother to ransom him, she had a guard at his door.  Had it always locked.  Had the servants escorted every time they entered.  With the way he had screamed when she told him she was writing Ramsay about him she had been sure the very first chance he got to run he would be gone.  But as the days passed, became weeks, it became clear that just wasn’t going to happen.

            The guard had stopped watching, the servants had come and go as they needed and more than once she had found the door not even latched.  She didn’t have it in her right now to punish the servant and tilted her head towards the door instead, “How is he doing?”

            “About the same M’lady.”

            Yara looked down at the food again and felt her anger twitch, making her shoulders go back.  It was a piece of chicken, potatoes, good food that wasn’t always plentiful on the island but her brother refused to eat, and she had to push down the part of her that wanted to go in and scream at him about how ungrateful he was.  “He still hasn’t eaten?”

            “He may have drank some water, though the pitcher looks full still.  And a piece of the bread.  That is all m’lady.”

            Yara hummed under her breath and looked at the food again, “Go down to the kitchens and get something soft.  Porridge.  Bring it back.”

            “Yes, of course my lady.”  The servant scurried off and Yara waited until she was gone before she unlatched the door and pushed it open.  She had put him in his old room, with big bright windows facing out, making sure the room was usually full of light.  Theon has covered the windows immediately with a blanket and only her taking them down and threatening him had stopped him doing it again. 

            “Theon?”

            In the corner of the room under a table her brother was curled up with his knees against his chest.  He didn’t answer her that she could hear but she saw him shaking his head and knew what he was muttering without having to hear it.  The bed to her right looked as pristine and untouched as it was when they put Theon in the room.  She knew he wasn’t sleeping on it, he’d sleep curled up in the corner or sometimes under the bed after a particularly bad day, but never on it.

            She had seen his wounds when he arrived back, had seen what was done to him but that was only the physical part.  The part that she was sure had been the worst of it, because what could possibly be done that would be worse than the cuts, than the flaying?  She knew better now.  Things had been broken that no one could see or touch, but they were broken all the same.  She now knew there were things that were much worse, and the results of that abuse – the other things Ramsay had done, were front and center every time she sat with her brother.  “They said you still aren't eating.”

            “M’sorry.”  She was close enough now to hear him, even though his head was tucked against his arms and he had barely whispered.

            “Do you want to starve to death?”

            “No m’lady.”

            Without warning she sat down on the ground next to him, watching him flinch away like he had been struck.  She ignored it, reaching out to grab him and turn him towards her, forcing his head up from his arms so he could see her.  She didn’t have to really, she knew if she told him to turn and look up he would, but it felt better when her hands were on him.  The connection between her and her brother was stronger, and she needed that.

            “Theon.”

            “I’m… I’m not Theon…. I’m …” Fearfully his eyes danced up to hers and his mouth clamped shut.  He knew better now, knew that a slap would come if he dared to say that his name was Reek, and Yara could see how you trained a person.  Given unlimited time she wondered if she could train him to be Theon again.  She let that thought go, whatever her brother would be from this point on he wouldn’t ever be the same that he was, the brother she had known.  But sometimes she saw a flash of him, and she knew that he could do better than this.  “Please...”

            “I won’t call you that.”  She kept one hand on his arm, “I can call you brother-”

            Great gulping sobs started to shake Theon’s body and she knew what she had done wrong but it was too late for that too.  Her resolved started to crumble as all she wanted to do was grab him and shake him until he stopped.

            “I have no sisters, Reek has no sisters.”  Panic bubbled over the words, and now there were tears and she really swore that she was trying her absolutely best. 

            “I am your sister-”

            “No, no, you are sister to Theon Greyjoy.”

            “You ARE THEON GREYJOY.”  The words roared out of her throat, angry and frustrated as she flew to her feet, watching him wail and crumble to the floor. 

            Sobbing as he crawled forward he put his head all the way to the ground by her feet, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

            “I didn’t come here to…”  She trailed off and took a deep breath before crouching down, reaching out to touch his head, petting his hair.  It calmed him almost instantly, the tears tapering off and the shaking stopped.  It was a good thing he was looking at the floor because she knew the look on her face would have upset him further.  There was no denying that the Ramsay bastard has turned her brother into his pet, he hadn’t just tortured him.  There was more to it than that.

            Though it hurt her to do it when she sank back to the ground she kept her voice low, forcing the words out because she had come here to help him, not this.  “You’re doing very good Reek.”  It was poison on her tongue and she wanted to be sick, but under her hand she could feel the last of the tension leave her brother's body and he curled up on the floor next to her, his head pressed against her knee.  “You’re being good.”

            They sat there while she petted his head, trying to calm him down so she could talk to him.  When the shaking had stopped completely she didn’t move her hand but she let it settle on the back of his neck, just a little bit of pressure.  “Do you want to go back to Ramsay?”

            She expected a yes.  She really did.  Theon shifted under her hand and she tightened her grip again, letting him know that it was there and he pressed back into it, like the control there calmed him.  Like he wanted it, and she was sure he did.  “No m’lady.”

            “No?” 

            “No.”  It was the most definitive answer that she had gotten from him, and something like hope reared its head in her though she shoved it down ruthlessly.  She didn’t loosen her grip, “Do you want to die?”

            “Sometimes.”

            “When I’m here with you, does this make you want to die?”  She didn’t know why she asked that, she was the one that had decided his fate and he had every reason to hate her.  It was just something she didn’t need to know.

            Theon was moving and she dropped her hand, letting him.  He shifted until he was leaning against the wall and looked up at her.  His eyes were red rimmed, face still too gaunt from not enough food, though his skin wasn’t so pale anymore.  His hair wasn’t so straggly.  And, thank the sea god, the baths they forced on him meant that she didn’t gag to smell him.  Which has been an entire other battle, but she had gotten enough to learn that Ramsay had sometimes given him baths as a reward, so as long as she had worded it that way she was able to coax him to wash.

            “When you’re here it’s the only time I don’t want to die.”

            “I never told him that you are here in the letter.”  She blurted the words out, words that she hadn’t told anyone yet.  That she wasn’t sure she was going to tell anyone, because she knew what was good for Pyke, what was good for the iron island but Theon was her brother and she couldn’t do it.

            Theon’s face was confused, and she could tell he was trying to figure it out.  Her brother had always been smart, quick on his feet, and it pained her now that it seemed to take him so long to understand anything.  She hoped with time that would get better.  “Letter?”  His voice caught a little on it, making him stutter, and she reached up to touch his face.

            “To the Boltons.  That we have you.  I never told them Theon, I can’t give you to him.  I’ll see you dead first.”

            There, it was out there now.  She was weak and she hated herself for it, but it was almost worth it as she saw the spark of life in Theon’s eyes.  He reached up to grab her hand, though he let go immediately like he had been burned and turned his eyes to her instead.  “It’s fine.”

            He nodded with the permission and held her hand against his face with both of his, muttering his thanks against her hand.  She saw the moment that something else occurred to him and his body went rigid and he dropped his hands.  “Is this a trick?”

            She shook her head but he was already drawing into himself, face stricken as he pulled his knees and wrapped his arms around them.  “It’s not a trick Theon.”  She didn’t let him pull back, instead reaching out to grab his face and jerk his head up to her, sure that the extra force would keep his attention, “Was it a trick when I came to get you from him?  When I pulled you out of that cage?”

            He searched her eyes, her face, and she watched as the memories of that night colored his cheeks and made him drop his eyes, “I betrayed you.”

            “That isn’t what I asked you.  Was it a trick?”

            “No.”

            She started to ask if she had ever tricked him, but stopped herself because she had.  She took a second to change the words, “Have I hurt you like that?  Like Ramsay did?”

            “No.”

            “It isn’t a trick.  We will find another way to get a stronghold.  At Kingsmoot I will claim the throne, and I will lead the iron born, and I will do it without needing to send you back to the Boltons.  Do you understand me?”

            “Yara-”

            She hadn’t heard her name on his tongue since she had locked him up and when a knock on the door broke into what he was going to say she was enraged.  Theon’s head whipped towards the door and he cringed, trying to pull back so he could get back under the table.  She tightened her grip and gave him a stern look, “Stay right here.”

            She didn’t wait for a response before going to the door and pulling it open, ready to lay in to someone for bothering her.  It was only the servant though, holding the bowl of porridge.  One look at Yara’s face and the servant apologized, scurrying off.  Yara looked down at the bowl in her hands and then back at Theon, kicking the door shut with her foot.

            His eyes were on her, they always were.  Like an obedient dog watching its master, and she ground down her teeth to keep from wanting to scream.  She would kill Ramsay herself for doing this to her brother.  She settled down next to him again.  “You haven’t been eating.”

            Theon glanced down at the bowl and then back up at her and shook his head, “I’m sorry m’lady.”

            She had seen his injuries, but sometimes things just didn’t click well.  Not when she was so busy and had so many things that needed her attention.  She eyed his face and she wondered why she never noticed that he kept his mouth clamped shut.  “Does it hurt to eat?”

            His eyes darted up to hers before dropping again, “Yes, m’lady.”  When she didn’t say anything he added, his voice soft.  “He knocked out some of my teeth, I just can’t…. The bread I tried but... “He was clearly embarrassed that he couldn’t eat, and she wondered why he hadn’t said something to her.  If he was worried about looking weak that ship had already sailed, and she just didn’t get it. 

            She let it go though, and nodded so he would know she understood, he tried to eat what he could.  She handed over the bowl in her hands and he immediately took it, but just sat there and stared at her, not even glancing at the food even though he must be starving.  “Does it hurt to eat porridge?”

            “No m’lady.”

            “Then eat.”  She put the command in her voice and watched him until he held the spoon, fumbling with it with his damaged hand.  He flushed, glancing up at her again as he tucked the bowl into his lap to make it easier to manage.  She watched him until he started to eat and then got up to get the pitcher of water by the door.  A glance said that it was almost full and her mouth twisted.  She didn’t know why he wouldn’t drink more water, but she was starting to suspect he only drank it when she gave it to him.

            “You need to drink more.”  She settled in front of him while he ate and even though his whole body twitched at her closeness he didn’t stop eating.  She handed him the pitcher, and helped him hold it to take great gulps of water, only stopping when she took it away.  A whimper escaped him when it was pulled from his hands and he darted his eyes away.

            “You can drink as much water as you want Theon, it is right there for you to take.  You don’t have to ask.”  He watched her and she motioned towards the bowl.  “Finish that.”  He went back to eating right away, and she wondered if she sat here with him for each meal if he would eat better.  She shrugged off that idea immediately, maybe… maybe it would be good for him but she needed to be there for her people.  She would do what she could for her brother but she couldn’t forget about her duty to the iron islanders that trusted her.

            After the food was gone, after most of the water was gone they sat there in silence, though Theon darted more and more glances at her, meeting her eyes a little more each time.  She glanced out the window and sighed.  “I need to go.  I have things that need my attention more than my little brother.” 

            He nodded at that, like it made perfect sense and when she still waited he tilted his head.  “I’m sorry.”

            Yara stood up, brushing off her pants and looked down at him.  “Is this worth my time?  Is there anything left in there or should I just put you out of your misery?”

            There was no answer from him, though that didn’t surprise her.  She didn’t say any goodbyes, just turned and headed for the door.  She would check on him in another day or two, though after Kingsmoot when she had the rule she wouldn’t have time to baby him like this.  She didn’t know what she would do then.

            “Yara?”

            So caught up in her own head she almost missed it, and she hesitated, sure that she was hearing things.  So it came again, louder, more solid.  “Yara.”

            She turned to face him and waited, hands on her hips.  He had pushed to sit all the way up and he pushed the food bowl towards her a little.  For a moment she thought he was telling her that she should pick it up, or any other number of things that would make her fly off the handle but he only nodded his head to it.

            “Thank you, for the food.”  He wrung his hands together, clearly anxious but he looked back up and met her eyes dead on, “You’re my sister.   Thank you, my sister.”

            “You’re welcome, brother.”  A small smile curled the edges of her lips, barely there but it was warm.  And genuine.  He noticed it and she watched a matching one on his face, and it was the first time she had seen him do anything but cringe and cry since he arrived back.  She started to turn towards the door but stopped and looked back, she knew she was pushing her luck but she couldn’t help it.

            “And Theon?”  His smile dulled when she said his name but he didn’t cringe, didn’t try to correct her and she knew her own smile grew at it.  “Try to sleep on the bed.” 

            He acknowledged the command but she was already on her way out, and had to force the hardness back on her face.  She had to be strong, she couldn’t afford anything less, not with Kingsmoot coming up quick.  But it was what she had needed to see, there was hope for her brother yet.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

            “Should it even be out roaming alone?”

            The man next to him glanced at Cayle, torn between frowning at the usage of ‘it’ and laughing along with him.  Theon was their prince though.

            “Yara said he’s not a prisoner anymore.”

            “He should be.”

            They watched Theon trailing down the hallway towards Yara’s room.  He was huddled against the wall as he walked, head down, wringing his hands in front of him.  Yara had cleaned him up, dressed him in better clothes in preparation for Kingsmoot, hell she had even made sure he got a haircut and a shave but it didn’t change what he was.

            Cayle curled his lip as he watched him move along.  Theon Greyjoy was a traitor, and there was no forgiving that. 

\------------------

 

            “What took so long?  I asked them to fetch you from your room an hour ago.”

            Theon glanced at his sister before looking down and pushing the door shut behind him.  He was already looking at his feet, trying to get the words to come out.  He could have run if he really had to, but it hurt and he hadn’t been told to hurry.  Finally he managed, “My... my feet.  I can’t walk very well...” His sister knew that already though, she had made sure his feet were looked at and wrapped tight.  It had hurt, it still did, but she said it was necessary to make sure they healed better, so that he could walk without having to drag his foot.  They were shoved into thick heavy boots that tired him out just from having to lift but he hadn’t complained.  He wouldn’t. 

            “I know Theon, I was just...”  She trailed off and he didn’t push it, staring down until he felt her moving closer.  His head came up quickly, he remembered her rules about it.  He was supposed to look her in the eye, she couldn’t stand when he looked away, when he stared off into nothing.  “It was a long time.  I thought maybe you had wandered off.  I know you are nervous about today.”

            The Kingsmoot was set for that afternoon, and he knew he was expected to not only be there, but support Yara.  He had started to venture out of his room, but usually only at Yara’s side and the thought of having to stand before everyone... everyone that knew everything about him and speak made his stomach clench up and tears press at his eyes. 

            “You look ready anyways.”  He had gotten away with staying in his rags for most of his time, and even after that with only wearing a simple tunic and britches, this required more.  He was decked out in Iron Island armor, their banner carved into the leather, though nothing could make him forget that under it was the Bolton banner, etched forever into his skin.

            “I have a few more things for you.  Theon, are you listening?”

            He must have been drifting away in his mind and he couldn’t help the flinch, but no punishment came for it.  “Yes Yara.”

“Put out your hands.”  She approached him, holding something leather and took his outstretched hand without asking permission, like he had no choice in it.  He wasn’t sure he did.  She watched him shake for a moment before she looked up, her voice serious.  “Can you do this for me brother?” 

            He looked down, watching her help him put on a glove to cover his hands.  She was certain that if he wanted to be taken seriously they couldn’t see his missing fingers.  Couldn’t be reminded of anything that had happened to him.  It was familiar.

            “Yes, Yara.”  He answered automatically like he was supposed to, but he wasn’t thinking of her.  His mind had wandered, it was hard to keep it straight sometime, and he was back on in the grass in front of Moat Cailin.  Back to his master’s sure hands on his shoulders, telling him what he was supposed to do.

            His eyes traveled from the glove she was pushing onto his hands to the clothes she had told him to wear.  He looked iron born, he looked like ... panic welled up and he muttered, “Not a lord...”

            “What?” Yara’s eyes rose to his and he quickly looked way, and she sounded suspicious, “What did you say?”

            “M’sorry.  Nothing.”  He stared at her shoulder until she went back to making sure that he looked like ... whatever it was that he was supposed to.  He didn’t know.  It felt uncomfortable, he wanted his other clothes back.  The armor chaffed, it weighed him down and he had gained back some of his health, but the sword at his hip felt cumbersome.  The glove was on his hand now and Yara directed him to set it on the hilt of the sword.

            “See?  I told you that you would feel better once you were back in iron island clothing.”  The sword made him panic, he wasn’t supposed to touch weapons, he wasn’t supposed to wear weapons, but he had gotten good at pushing it down so he didn’t upset Yara.

            “Yes, Yara.” 

            He was looking down at the floor and he felt her disapproval in front of him.  “M’sorry m’lady.”  He cringed, he knew that he wasn’t supposed to call her that.  He knew that, he knew that, he knew that. 

            “Theon.”

            The whimper worked its way out of his throat, but that was all.  He was trying so hard.  He understood this game, he just had to follow the rules.  “I can do this.”

            “Do you remember what I need you to say?”

            The memory of his master’s voice rung in his head, and Yara hadn’t wondered why this part has been so easy to make sure he understood, and since she was pleased he had offered no explanation.  “I’m Theon Greyjoy.  Son of Balon Greyjoy, heir to the iron islands.”  His tongue felt thick and he knew he was shaking, but he forced on.  “And you are the rightful ruler.  Our queen.”

            He watched her and waited, relaxing when the smile split her face.  Her hand came up to cup the side of his face and her voice was warm, “See?  You were worried that you wouldn’t be able to help.”

            Her hand was smaller than Ramsay’s, not as strong, but he leaned in to it.  She was dropping her hand when suddenly it was back up, pushing down the cloth at his neck.  He knew what she had seen and he did cringe away, as much from the touch as her sharp voice.  “Theon!”  He had tried to hide it under the cloth, but he must not have done a good job.

            “M’sorry.”  He tried to reach up to touch the collar still around his neck but Yara pushed his hands away, tugging at the collar trying to unlatch it to get it off. 

            “I’ve been patient about this Theon, but I told you no.  That it had to come off, you can’t stand in front of them and expect them to respect you while you wear Ramsay’s dog collar!”

            “Please...”  When he started to choke up, sobbing now, she let him go.  Both his hands flew up to the collar, grabbing at it so hard he scratched his own skin and he backed up a few steps.  “I can’t... I can’t...”

            “Theon...”  She sounded annoyed at him, disgusted, and he wasn’t sure he could blame her.  His fingers were still around the collar though, and he couldn’t make himself let it go.

            “Yara, please.”

            “I just don’t get-” The words were sharp, angry.  She sounded like she had that first day he had come home, and more and more her voice slipped into it.  Like she was tired of dealing with him and his stomach felt like lead.  After a moment of silence though she spoke again, and her voice had gentled, “Okay.  Okay, I know.  You’re doing so good Theon, I’m proud of you.”    She ignored that he twitched at his name like it hurt and reached up to pull his clothing over the collar.  Carefully tucking it until it wasn’t visible at all, and even though her hands felt tense she stayed gentle.  “There.  It’s okay.”

            “Thank you Yara.”  Her hands were still by his face and he turned his head into her hand, nuzzling against it and only just managed to remember not to lick it.  No matter how grateful he was, no licking was one of the new rules. 

            Her hands jerked away though, and when he glanced up at her she was frowning.  She caught him with a stern look, “Tell me again what I need you to say.”

 

\---------

 

            Theon felt out of place here, Yara had stood him between two of her best men with orders to keep an eye on him, and though he tried to fit in he knew that he didn’t.  He couldn’t stand casually, his shoulders were tense and his arms hung at his sides awkwardly, and he scanned the crowd quickly for Yara before turning his eyes back to the ground. 

            He leaned to his left slightly so his arm brushed against the soldier next to him and they barely took note of him and he sighed as Kingsmoot began.

            “We speak in the presence of the drowned god, in his name we gather today to choose a new king as our leader. Who makes a claim?”

            Theon tensed as he felt the movement around him.  He could imagine everyone looking at Yara, she was the one that they knew.  He didn’t belong here, he knew it, they all knew it, he never should have come back.  He stared harder at the ground, willing no one to notice him, wishing he could just fade into the background like he had when he was with his master.

            He jolted at the thought, not that anyone paid him any mind, as he tried to force himself to call him Ramsay.  To think of him as his captor.  Abruptly he realized Yara was talking and looked up at her, trying to pay attention. 

            “-mark upon the world. The great lords of Westeros pay us no mind until our little raids buzz through their kingdoms long enough to become a nuisance, then they swat us down, they conquer us, humiliate us.”  Her eyes met his and he swallowed hard, he understood the message and he quickly submitted looking away.  He was like a shining example of what could happen to them if they didn’t fight back.  “And go right back to forgetting we exist.  We are a sea people, our god is a sea god, when I am queen we will build a fleet-”

            “You cannot be queen!”  To his left someone moved forward, challenging Yara and he tried to tuck his body in close, to make himself look smaller.

            “I am not done!”

            “Yes you are! A woman will not lead us, not when Balon’s own male heir has returned.”

            Silence filled the air and Theon realized that was his cue, and he nervously glanced around at everyone watching him.  He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t, but he glanced up and met Yara’s eyes and they were demanding.  She had drilled it into his head what he had to say, what he had to do, and for all the things that he couldn’t do anymore, he could still follow orders. 

            He stumbled when he moved forward, keeping his hands down so he wouldn’t start wringing them, so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach up to hold his collar.  He looked around, behind him he could feel Yara’s tension, he wasn’t trying to delay.  The words were just a struggle to get out.  Finally he spoke, trying to be loud, but aware that all the screaming he had done meant he permanently sounded raspy.

            “I am Theon Greyjoy. Last living son of Balon Greyjoy.”  He had no desire to lead, he was sure he couldn’t even if he wanted to but still the words stung.  His master had told him that he would never be good for anything other than being at his side, and maybe he was right. 

            Quickly he shook off those thoughts and turned to point at his sister.  “And she is your rightful ruler.”  She hadn’t needed to tell him exactly what to say, she had only to tell him to back her, to make sure that she would be chosen.  He had spent the whole night before going over the words, making sure that he wouldn’t mess them up, that he wouldn’t disappoint her.

            “Those of you who have sailed under her, and there are many of you here, you know what she is.  She is a reaver!  She is a warrior.  She is Ironborn.”  He moved so he was standing at her side, a little bit behind her, “We will find no better leader.”  He finally looked up to meet her eyes and he couldn’t help the wince that crossed his face.  The words were bitter on his tongue, and he had never felt like such a failure.  He bit it back though, that wasn’t his purpose.  He didn’t get to decide things like that, he just did what he was told. “This is our queen.”

            Yara was looking at him like he did well, like she was pleased, and he couldn’t help it as his head ducked down.   Around him they were chanting her name, Yara’s name, and there was a sharp feeling of loss for something that he wouldn’t ever have.  No matter how hard he had tried.  When he glanced up she was still smiling at him though and that settled something in him, that he could at least please her.  That he wasn’t completely useless.   

            “I’m Euron Greyjoy! I claim the salt throne.”  Theon’s eyes darted to the man approaching him and the look on his face made his knees weak.  Made him want to move and hide behind Yara, because it was all violence.  Crazy.  He knew that look.  He found himself easing back a step but stopped when he addressed him.  “Nephew.”  He might be slow but the scorn in the word was obvious and he grabbed at his sleeves, trying to stay calm.  Yara was right there, she would protect him.  Euron was in his face though, reaching up to touch his face and even though he knew he should push him off, he could only freeze.   “Little Theon.”  He dropped his hand and moved away, addressing the men with his words.   “Heard you managed to fuck things right into the ground. Captured a castle you couldn’t keep, got yourself taken prisoner, even heard you have no cock.”

            Theon whimpered at that and looked down as the men all around them laughed.  No one had confronted him like that about it, and he could see what his uncle’s plan was.  How he was going to win the men over, because who wouldn’t find his mocking entertaining?  If the circumstances were different he was sure that Yara would have joined in the laughing as well, she had in the past.

            Again he realized he hadn’t been paying attention, easy to lose himself in his thoughts.  He had spent so much time not given an opinion, not expected to do anything other than whatever Ramsay told him that it was easy to slide back in to it. 

            “I’m glad you’re here.  Now I know what my first act as queen will be.  To execute the man who killed my father.”  Theon’s head snapped up at that, going from Yara to Euron, waiting to hear what he would say.  He wasn’t sure what he had missed in the few moments he had been gone, but he tried to force himself to pay attention.  Euron looked unsure for a moment but then his face set and Theon knew this was going to be bad.

            “I did.  I killed him.  Threw him right over rogue bridge and watched him fall.  He was leading us nowhere and we would still be heading there if it weren’t for me.  No one loved him, no one wanted to follow him, he led us into two wars we couldn’t win. I apologize to you all for not killing him years ago.

            “That would have been hard to do, you weren’t here.  Last I heard you were gallivanting around the world having a grand ole time.” Euron was winning them over and without meaning to, without his mind really consenting to it he spoke up, regretting it instantly when Euron’s attention turned back to him. 

            “Gallivanting, is that the sort of thing you start to say once your dick gets chopped off?”  He ducked his head like the trained response it was and only glanced up when he saw Yara shift next to him, giving him a supportive look as Euron finished his mocking.  “Did the great lords of Westeros teach you words like that?”

            More laughter, a lifetime of laughter, but this was something that he was used to.  Being laughed at, being mocked, it had been a daily thing and that wouldn’t keep him quiet.  Not when the one giving him orders wanted him to keep going, not when Yara was giving him a look that said he had to keep on.  “You were gone.  Yara was here. Being ironborn, leading ironborn, getting ready to bring us back to glory.”

            “And how will she do that?”

            “I will build the largest fleet the world has ever seen.”  The tension in Theon’s shoulders eased when Yara started talking, he knew that meant the end of what he had to do and he eased back a few more steps, trying to slow his breathing.  Euron was talking but he didn’t pay attention to him, halfheartedly looking away when he took another jab at him.  His eyes were only for Yara, waiting to be told what to do, waiting for an idea about what was going to happen.

            “You’re going to seduce the dragon queen?”  She sounded incredulous but he could see the nervousness under her words, and for the first time he realized that she might not win.

            What would happen if she didn’t win?  His heart sank as he listened to Euron, and he knew that they had lost them.  “I’m not going to seduce her, the iron fleet will seduce her, and together we are going to take the seven kingdoms. I wasn’t born to be king, I paid the iron price, and here I stand.”

            Around them they started to chant Euron’s name and Yara looked to him.  He met her eyes, worried that she would blame him for this, nearly frantic that he hadn’t done a good enough job, but none of that was on her face.  She looked worried, but it was a shared look between them.

            Euron was celebrating, the men heading off with him to feast and drink the night away in preparation for the crowning ceremony the next day and he stared, wondering what was going to happen to them.  He didn’t have long to stare though as Yara grabbed his arm roughly and dragged him in the other direction, her men quickly surrounding them.

            It was a struggle to keep up with her, but he did his best, and even when he stumbled she never let go of his arm.  He didn’t know why, he wasn’t going to go anywhere that wasn’t with her.  “We need to move fast.  He’ll have Theon and me both killed if we are still here after he is crowned tomorrow.”

            That should have scared him, but death had stopped scaring him long enough.  There were worse things.  He finally realized where they were heading, towards one of the lower towers.  He wasn’t sure what would be there that they needed so badly, or what would save them, but Yara seemed very determined.

            He stumbled when she let go of him, moving in front of them to enter the tower, and he let himself be pushed back as her men followed her, taking his place as the back of the group.  He stumbled to a stop as they entered the room, it was full of iron soldiers, dressed in war gear and ready to move.  Everyone had something to do, Yara yelling orders as everyone scurried to comply.  Theon didn’t know what was going on and he reached up to hold the collar through the cloth, easing back until he was pressed against the wall. 

            What he really wanted to do was ask Yara what was going on but he knew better than that.  She was ordering her men, preparing for battle, and he’d watch Ramsay do it enough times to know that you just stayed out of the way.  You didn’t interrupt your master when they were busy.  He let go of his collar to wrap his arms around himself and waited.

 

It was hours before Yara made her way back around to him.  She had assumed that he would have gone to the tables, or the cots, gotten some sleep.  Her lip curled as she acknowledged that she knew there was no chance he would have jumped in to help, at least not unless she told him too.  Which she would have if she wasn’t so certain that he would have just been in the way.

            Theon was exactly where he had been, not even daring to slide down and sit on the ground, not sure if he was allowed too.  It wasn’t a surprise to him when Yara finally made her way back, his eyes had been on her the entire time, watching to make sure that she didn’t call him over, that she didn’t have a task for him.

            “What are you doing?”

            A question had already been on the tip of his tongue but his eyes darted away when she beat him to it.  “Nothing.”

            “Exactly.  Why is everyone but you working?”

            “I don’t know.”  She sounded so angry but he hadn’t done anything wrong, he had done everything she asked.  “You didn’t tell me to do anything.”

            She made and exasperated sound at that.  “I’m going to expect you to pull your own weight Theon, no one on my ship is lazy, do you understand?”

            “Yes, Yara.”  Quickly before she could say anything else, even as he cringed back at daring to question her he asked, “What is going on?”

            “As soon as the ceremony starts tomorrow we are going to take a few long boats out to the ships.  I have enough men loyal to me that we should be able to steal a good amount of them.  And then... then we head away for now.  North.”

            Theon nodded, and bit his lip before glancing at her again, “And you’re taking me with you?”

            “Of course I am.”  Yara moved closer, trying to catch his eyes, “Why wouldn’t I take you with me?”

            Bile rose in his throat, all his instincts screaming at him to keep his mouth shut, to keep appeasing his master but he knew.  He _knew._   The words came out, though he couldn’t meet her eyes when he said them, “You don’t need me anymore.  You needed me to back you in Kingsmoot, what do you need me for now?”

            “Oh Theon.”  She was already mad at him, he could tell just by her tone so he didn’t bother to stop the flinch.  “You aren’t as dumb as I thought you were, I’m surprised.  Yes, I needed you, at first I thought you’d challenge me but then I realized I could use you.”  Even though he expected the answer it still hurt, the cold tone cutting him right down to the bone, but she was still talking.  “It doesn’t change that I’m your sister though Theon, and I care about you.  Do you understand me?”

            Her hand came up to grab his jaw and force him to meet her eyes.  It was too much and when he reached for the collar she slapped his hand away, her mouth twisting.  “You’ll travel with me, you will help if you can, and if we get to a point where you are more work than you are worth at least the death I give you will be merciful.”

            “You’d kill me?” 

            Her hand let go of his jaw to run through his hair, and despite the words, despite what she was saying he relaxed into the touch.  Nuzzled against her hand.   Yara stepped a little closer and her voice lowered, a quiet chuckle making its way out of her throat, “Look at you, you don’t even care who sees you like this.  Go get some sleep brother.  We’re going to have to leave early and we’re going to have to leave fast.  Can you do this?”

            “Yes.”  She let go of his hair all at once, making him stumble, and he glanced around to see if any of her men had been watching.  There were a few mocking glances, more open now and he wondered if Euron’s speech had something to do with that.   There was a dangerous glare from Cayle over Yara’s shoulder and Theon quickly looked away from him.  Yara turned back to what she had been doing, not even a backwards glance at him as she went back to work and he slunk over to the cots, doing as he was told. 

            It felt empty though.  Yara didn’t want to be his master.  He curled up on the cot and buried his head into his arms.  He had no say, in where they were going, of what would happen to him and he thought he had left that behind when he jumped off the wall at Winterfell.  Worse, it didn’t exactly feel wrong, but it felt hollow.  He slipped into an uneasy sleep, wondering what exactly it was that felt like it was missing.

 

 

\-------------------

 

            Euron rolled over, coughing up sea water, and it took a moment for him to orient himself.  He glanced around at the men watching him, and wasn’t surprised that Yara and Theon were nowhere to be seen.

            “Where are my niece and nephew?”  The night before one of his niece’s men Cayle, who seemed to be less than happy about her letting his little nephew run loose had come to him.  He had not only told him his niece’s plan but also what the Bolton bastard had offered in exchange for getting his hands back on his little bitch of a nephew.

            “They took the boats, headed off North, just as you thought they would.”

            Euron laughed, cold and dark.  “Good, the Boltons should be getting the raven I sent in no time and my lovely niece and nephew will sail themselves right into a trap.  And we’ll have an ally in the North, won’t we?”  It couldn’t have worked out better if he had killed them himself.   He would wait to hear word from Ramsay once he caught them, and in the meantime they had a fleet to build.


	4. Chapter 4

            When the sun rose they were on the move.  Theon kept his mouth shut and stayed close to his sister, running the best he could with them.  He understood the stakes, if they got caught it would be death for them, and for all the men that supported his sister.

            They made it without incidence, and he worked hard to do what he knew he was supposed to.  He stayed in line, he helped everyone climb up, and once they were on the ship he slid into place along with the other men without Yara telling him too, he remembered her words about him not working. 

            He didn’t think she noticed but as he was pulling the rope, getting ready to set sail, she passed by him, her hand dropping to his shoulder for a moment with a squeeze.  He glanced at her quickly, hoping for a smile, but she was already moving past him and yelling for everyone to move faster.

            Fading away into the background is exactly what he had wanted to do, but it left him feeling alone.  He pushed it down, reminding himself that however thin it may have been his orders had been to work, to pull his weight, and he would do that.

 

* * *

 

            Theon had planned on taking a cot anywhere he could, finding somewhere to curl up when it came time to bed down, or the floor even, it didn’t really matter.  He could sleep anywhere.  It had surprised him when he tried to slink away to do just that, that Yara had grabbed his arm and brought him with her to the captain’s quarters.

            It didn’t feel right and he stayed pressed against the wall, his arms wrapped tight around himself while he kept his eyes on the floor. 

            “Theon?”

            “Let me go sleep somewhere else.”  He cringed at his words and nearly whimpered out, “I’m sorry, please.  Please let me.”

            “You’re safer with me.”

            He hadn’t realized he wasn’t safe on the ship, and he peeked up at her trying to understand what she meant.  “I don’t belong in here, I should be out on the floor somewhere...”

            “You can sleep on the floor in here if you want, but I want you nearby.   My men...”  Her voice hardened, and a note of mocking slipped into it if only to break up the tension, “By morning I’d hate to find out someone had taken you as their saltwife.”

            Theon didn’t know if she was serious, if that was really something he had to worry about and he tried to keep his sniffling down, he knew it would only bring more mocking words.  He wouldn’t share the bed with her, not if she didn’t make him.  He edged closer and she kicked a blanket at him, “Curl up on the floor then, if that is what you want.  I don’t care.”

            He reached out to take the blanket, not looking at her as he headed towards the corner of the room and sunk down to the floor, wrapping the blanket around himself.  He wasn’t Yara’s pet, she didn’t want to be his master.  He wasn’t one of the men, not sleeping in here on the captain’s floor.  He didn’t belong anywhere here. 

\---------

Things went smoothly as they sailed, and the days went by without seemingly any pursuit from their uncle.  They headed North, though she still wasn’t sure exactly where they were going.  They were traveling dangerously close to enemy territory, but Yara wasn’t worried.  They never looked to the sea for enemies. 

After another uneventful day, one where her nerves were wearing thin because honestly she wasn’t sure what they were going to do she had looked forward to retiring to her quarters and getting some sleep.  Trying to talk with her brother was useless, the longer they sailed the worse he seemed to be, and maybe the salt _was_ gone from his blood.  She fell asleep with an eye on him, curled up in the corner where he always slept, and the weight of the fate of her men on her mind.  

\-----------

 

            Yara wasn’t sure what had woken her, but something had.  She sat up, struggling to see in the dark and finally her vision focused on the form near the door, and she recognized him instantly.

            “Theon, what are you doing up?”

            It looked like he was moving, shaking, but a torch from the hallway was the only illumination and it was hard to tell.  She heard the words though, “Not Theon... Reek.  My name is Reek.”  His voice sounded clearer, more confident, than it had since he arrived home, but the sleep wasn’t clearing enough for her to understand.

            Her brother still slid back sometimes but nothing had happened that should have made him do that.  He knew better than to call himself that and a sinking feeling hit her stomach.  “Theon, what is going on?”

            She could hear it now, from far off there was yelling and screams and she was out of bed on her feet before she thought about it, grabbing him by the shoulders.  “What have you done?”

            There was only a flicker of light but Theon looked up at her, and she could feel the trembling in his body from where she touched him and his eyes were terrified, but he answered her.  “Master is here.”

            By the time the words registered she realized there was a shadow moving in to the doorway, and she went for her weapon by her bed but it was too late.  Two men grabbed her and dragged her forward and now with the door fully open there was enough light to see and there he stood.  She remembered him from when she had tried to rescue her brother, and she put every ounce of rage she had into the glare she focused on him.

            Out of the corner of her eye she saw her brother move towards him, Ramsay’s hand going out automatically to pull him close, rubbing a hand through his hair like his favorite dog, and she felt her blood boil.  “Don’t touch him!”

            “Don’t touch him?  He’s _mine_.  I can do whatever I want with him.”  The words were sharp, angry, and Theon’s whimper was almost drowned out by them.  Ramsay nodded to the men, “Bringing her up top on deck with her men.  Clearly a lesson needs to be learned.”

           

           

            They dragged her out screaming until it was only Theon and Ramsay and he couldn’t stop shaking, knew that tears were pouring down his face.  The hand that had been gently petting his hair suddenly fisted it hard, yanking his head back.  “You ran away.  You are not a loyal Reek.  You are not a _good_ Reek.”

            “Please master, please, m’sorry.”  The sobs ripped at his throat and he dropped to his knees, sure that his master was going to rip out large chunks of his hair until he relented and let him slip to the ground.  Once he was there he pressed forward, nuzzling against Ramsay’s leg, trying to wrap himself around him. 

            This was home.  The emptiness that had been all he felt since he had escaped was filled and when Ramsay’s other hand came into his vision he pressed kisses to his palm, licking it frantically, trying to show how sorry he was.

            “You left me Reek.  You weren’t supposed to _ever_ _leave me._ ”

            He would never mention it, never say anything, but the hurt in Ramsay’s voice was clear.  He wailed, beyond him how to fix this.  The hand in his hair fell away completely as he dropped down lower to lick Ramsay’s boots, the tears falling down his face spilling freely on them.  “Please master, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I’ll do anything.”

            Ramsay leaned down to grab him by the hair and pull him up, continuing to pull until he shakily climbed to his feet, nerves making him stumble against his master.  Ramsay’s hand went to his neck and he hesitated, but then wrapped his fingers around the collar there.  His voice dropped, he probably hadn’t been able to see it in the dark, but he could feel it.  “You still have your collar on.”

Frantically he nodded, “Yes master, I wouldn’t let her take it off.  I’m Reek, Ramsay’s reek.  Always.”

Ramsay fingers dragged across the collar for a moment longer and his touch gentled, “My stupid simple pet.”  He gave him a tug forward by the collar.  “Let’s go see what your iron island soldiers have managed to do up there, and then we will talk about your disobedience.”

            Normally Ramsay would have simply gone ahead of him, expecting him to follow, but an arm slid around his shoulders instead, pulling him close enough that he was flush against Ramsay, and he tried to push further in to him, wishing he could hide under that arm.  Hide against Ramsay and never have to make any decision again, never have to disappoint anyone again.

            On the deck it was lighter by the moon and Reek realized that Ramsay looked a little pale, probably not used to being on a boat, and he hesitantly slid an arm around his waist, trying to help steady him.  Ramsay shot him a sharp look, a look that had the ability to cut him as deeply as any knife, but when he seemed to realize what Reek was doing he looked back towards the others waiting for them.

            Theon only had eyes for Ramsay though, and when they came to a stop even though he heard his name, _no_ , he heard the _other_ name, he stayed curled against Ramsay’s side, looking at him.  The hand slid to his hair again, grabbing it painfully, “Get on your knees, pet.”

            He slid to his knees next to Ramsay, leaning heavily against his legs once he was sure that he was allowed to.  The hand stayed in his hair, twisting painfully and turning his head to look at the iron soldiers kneeling on the deck.  His sister was looking at him, trying to get his attention and he wanted to look away but Ramsay’s hand held him still. 

            “Theon!”

            He cringed at his name as Ramsay’s grip tightened.  “That isn’t his name.  Maybe you are as dumb as he is.”

            “His name is Theon Greyjoy.”  Yara’s eyes left Theon’s to look up at Ramsay and she spit on the ground in front of him.  “And you can go fuck yourself, bastard.”

            Ramsay was grinning at her, “I understand why you think he is Theon.  He is very good at pretending when he is told to.  Did you tell him too?”

            Yara’s gaze wavered for a just a moment as she glanced at Theon, unsure, but turned the glare back to Ramsay.  “What do you want?”

            “Ah.  You did.”  He nodded like she had just told him a secret, “He has pretended to be Theon Greyjoy for me before as well.”  Ramsay let go of Theon’s hair to touch his chin and tilt his face up to look at him, “Did you tell her how you pretended?”

            Shame curled in his stomach, but it was only an echo of what it used to be.  No, he hadn’t told his sister how he betrayed them, not all of it.  “No, master.”

            Glee lit up Ramsay’s face, that pull of his lips that wasn’t a smile, that didn’t always mean he was happy and Theon hunched his shoulders.  “Why don’t you tell her pet?”

            He licked his lips, “Reek-”

            “No, look at her.”  When he was slow to do it rough fingers grabbed his jaw and jerked his head towards her.  “Apologies, Reek.  You know how it works.”

            He opened his mouth to speak, Yara staring at him like he disgusted her.  Slow though, he was slow but that made me realize something and even though he had been ordered to look at her he fought against the grip to look up at Ramsay.  Ramsay looked surprised, and Theon rushed to speak before the smile slid off his face.  He met his eyes and squeaked out, “I’m sorry I left you master.”

            The smile on Ramsay’s face softened for a moment before it hardened and he yanked Theon’s face back to Yara.  “You’re already facing punishment Reek, don’t make it worse.”

            He was sure he had earned at least another flaying but it had been worth it if it pleased his master.  “Reek pretended to be Theon Greyjoy at Moat Cailin.”

            Yara had been glaring at Ramsay but her attention jerked to Theon, stunned.  “What?”

            “M-Master told me to bring him Moat Cailin.  Reek...”  He trailed off while his sister stared at him in shock.

            “You what?”  Her words shook with anger, with scorn and Theon leaned in closer to Ramsay.

            “Reek convinced them to surrender the castle and told them they would be spared.” 

He wanted to look away, the way that Yara was looking at him there was no coming back from but he knew what Ramsay wanted, “I told them I was their prince and they could trust me.”

            Ramsay laughed, startling them both.  “Yes. Perhaps they could have trusted Theon Greyjoy, just as you could have, but sadly, that isn’t who he is, is it pet?”

            “No master.”

            “And who are you?”

            He wasn’t looking up but he knew that Ramsay was looking at his sister, smug and victorious, “I’m Reek.  Always.  Forever.”

            “Traitor.”  She hissed out the word and if she thought it would upset Theon, that it would sting him, she was wrong.  He was too far gone for that.

            Ramsay only made a tsking sound though, “He belongs to me, how could he betray you?  He betrayed me when he left....”  His hair was fisted suddenly so he was looking up at Ramsay, “How should I punish you for that?  I could remove your feet, you wouldn’t make it very far then, would you?”

            Fear wound up in Theon at that, a finger... a toe... those he could get along without, however slowly or painfully.  The thought of his feet being gone though, he knew that tears were welling up in his eyes at that.  Ramsay saw it, of course he did, and reached out to wipe away one of the tears, “Or maybe I will just take your eyes.  You wouldn’t be able to make it far and you’d still be able to perform your duties, wouldn’t you?”

            The background noise of his sister and her men shouting curses, threats fell away and he muttered out, “Whatever pleases you master.”

            “Don’t worry pet, I wouldn’t take your eyes.  They are too pretty, too pretty to be in a little wretch’s face like yours.”  His hand let go of his hair to stroke it, “We’ll discuss it later pet, after I decide how much you have to make up for.”

            For the first time Ramsay turned his attention to something other than his pet.  “Where is the soldier that Euron said would be on board?”

            “Here, Lord Bolton.”  Yara’s head spun to the side to see Cayle move into view, moving past the Bolton soldiers until he stood in front of Ramsay.  “Euron sends his regards, and looks forward to his alliance with you.”

            “Yes, of course.”  Ramsay waved his hand and suddenly his men grabbed Cayle and dragged him to the side of the boat.

            The man’s eyes went wide, “We are on the same side.”

            “Your iron island _king,”_ the scorn was clear in the word, “is delusional if he thinks that he and his army will do anything other than die at my hand.”  Ramsay laughed as his men produced a knife and slit Cayle’s throat, letting him fall over board.  Everyone watched for a moment before Ramsay looked back to Yara.  “You’re welcome for that.  See? I’m not all bad, I killed a traitor for you.”

            “Go fuck yourself.”

            “Why would I do that when I have Reek for that?”  Yara immediately looked enraged by that and gave away a sore spot.  Ramsay pet Theon’s hair, “I could have him suck my cock right here in front of all of you if it would prove the point to you, he would.  He’d do anything I tell him to, because he’s _mine_.”

            “When I get out of here, you’ll regret this bastard.  You can’t keep us all prisoner forever, and I’ll make you pay for everything you have done.”

            A small voice inside Theon recognized that she was talking about what had been done to him, that even now while she stared at him like she hated him, like she might kill him herself given the chance, she still wanted vengeance for him.  Or maybe not for him, for the brother she had.  Theon was dead though, and all that was left was Reek.

            Ramsay must have picked up on it as well because he glanced down, an amused smirk on his face.  “You are still going to avenge your brother, yes?  You realize that you tried that once and it didn’t work, he chose me.”  He had pulled out the knife on his hip, almost distracted by the pitiful sound Reek made next to him but he pushed on. 

            “Watch bitch, and understand that you lost.”  He turned towards Reek and though his pet cringed away he only pressed the knife into his hands, forcing his hands awkwardly around the hilt before he moved away, standing between Reek and Yara.

            He motioned his men farther away and met Yara’s eyes.  “There you go.  He’s at my unprotected back, holding a knife, maybe you can convince him to use it?”

            She didn’t take the bait.  Her eyes slid to her brother, kneeling there with the knife in his hands resting on the floor between his knees, still staring up at Ramsay, and she recognized the look.  It was just as she had told him, like he was staring at his God and she knew it was a useless endeavor.  She wouldn’t give Ramsay the satisfaction.  She looked back to Ramsay with her mouth set.

            “No?  Well, at least we are on the same page.”  He stepped back and took the knife from Reek, ruffling his hair as he did so.  “But you should know, I have no intentions of taking prisoners.  I’ve already got plenty of those and no room.  I could keep you though, take you back with me to winterfell, maybe we could play a few games.”

            “I’d rather die.”

            “Yes, you probably would.”  He looked down at his pet, “What do you think Reek, should we kill her now or bring her back to play a game with her?”

            Theon looked to Yara, and met her eyes, and for a second there was something there.  An apology maybe.  A warning.  He looked back to Ramsay’s shoes.  “Whatever would please master.” 

            “Look at me Reek.”

            He looked up at met Ramsay’s eyes, and managed to not flinch.  He shouldn’t be afraid of his master, not if he was being a good reek.  He had been bad, very bad, but not anymore.  He was good Reek, loyal reek.  “Do you think I should kill them?”

            He bit his lip but didn’t look away and finally forced out the words, “Yes master, if it will please you.”

            “You heard him.”  He motioned to his men and they advanced on the kneeling men, the sounds of resistance breaking out.

            Ramsay grabbed his head and he was sure he would be forced to watch Yara killed but instead his face was turned in against Ramsay, pressing in against his hip.  “Hush pet, you don’t have to watch this.”

            He huddled against Ramsay, listening to the screams, and it was easy to pick out Yara’s since she was the only female.  Ramsay’s hand stayed on his head, petting his hair, while he made a soothing sound but it wasn’t necessary.  It was beyond what he could do, and simply knowing that Yara would meet her death and not be brought back with them, that she wouldn’t be subjected to Ramsay’s games, was enough to calm him.  There were fates worse than death, he was intimately familiar with them, and he was sure Yara had seen it in his eyes when he looked at her.  A quick death now was a gift, the last one he’d ever be able to give his sister.

            It seemed to take a long time, and when Ramsay moved away from him he tried to follow but he was pressed to the ground and told to stay there.  There was more screaming, the kind that comes when someone is losing skin, but he covered his head to block it out, repeating his rhymes over and over to himself so he wouldn’t forget.  Not ever again.

            “Come along, pet.”  When he was pulled to his feet by Ramsay he wasn’t startled, only pressed against him, and even the thought of the punishment that awaited him couldn’t dissuade him from being happy he was back with his master. 

            He nuzzled against the hand by his face, licked it when it stayed there and managed to mumble out, “Can we go home now, master?”

            He could feel Ramsay grin against him, even as the hands on him tightened painfully, hard enough to bruise.  “Always pet.  You’ll always come back home, won’t you?”

            Theon nodded, unable to avoid glancing at the blood and bodies as they moved towards the side of the ship.  He could make out Yara’s body and he felt nothing.  There was nothing for him to run to, nothing else out there for him, all that he had left was Ramsay.  “Yes master, Reek will always come home.”


End file.
